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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660640">the witch of woods beyond</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpaperweight/pseuds/pumpkinpaperweight'>pumpkinpaperweight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>filling in canon [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mild Gore, kind of a follow up to the best kept secret, post book 1, this one made me cry lmao</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:00:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,287</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpaperweight/pseuds/pumpkinpaperweight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As expected, he noticed. <br/>In fact, he came into her dream, in his true form; old and wizened and disgusting, roaring at her, grabbing her by the hair. <br/>“WHAT DID YOU DO? WARDWELL! WHAT DID YOU DO?”<br/>He knew what she’d done. He knew he would die, and die soon, if he turned on Agatha. He knew it, and he was furious. <br/>And he couldn’t do anything about it. <br/>Callis had crowed in his face, cackling in triumph, and didn’t reply, even as he raged. <br/>----<br/>post sge. callis defends her daughter. they don't talk about what happened at the school. <br/>(except for when they do)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agatha &amp; Callis (The School for Good and Evil)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>filling in canon [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the witch of woods beyond</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>some moderate gore in here, please be aware of that! not too bad but if you're a bit funny about stuff like that like me, it's better to know</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Something was wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Magically wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Callis had lived in the Woods, it had often been so; someone in the Wardwell Clan’s sprawling gothic manor would flub a potion and turn the cat into a toad, or knock themselves out, or something of the sort. It had been even more common at the School for Evil, with 120 amateur Nevers all in one castle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But in Gavaldon? Never. The lack of magic in Gavaldon was potent, making the village seem even more dismal than it already was. Callis’s potions, meager from lack of ingredients, were the only power in the entire village. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apart from Kidnapping Day, that was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After years with practically no magic, every Kidnapping Day was brutal. Aside from the fact that Rafal’s magic was strong enough to make her, magic deprived as she was, feel unwell, Callis had always feared he knew she was there. The house was warded, aggressively so-- in fact, she’d wasted all of the ingredients she’d brought from Netherwood to do it-- and she never let Agatha out after dark, that day. Although she was too young for the School, Callis had never put it past Rafal to simply kill her, out of spite. Every year, they’d huddle under the covers of Callis’s bed with cake and ghost stories, whilst rashes pricked on Callis’s arms and her wards screeched in her head, letting her know that someone, someone she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was testing them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, he could get in, if he wanted. So clearly he didn’t want to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this year, he’d changed his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha had been annoyed at her that night. Callis’s enthusiasm about Evil and her ridiculous packing had clearly grated, and it was the last piece of evidence Callis needed to be sure; sure that knew Evil wasn’t where Agatha was going at all. She’d refused their usual tradition and gone to bed in a bad mood, squirming when Callis tried to kiss her and muttering something about having a headache. Callis hadn’t let go of her, though, no matter how much she’d wriggled, and had she bothered to look up, she’d likely have noticed that the expression on her mother’s face was wretched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She must have slept at some point that night, despite vowing not to, because Callis had woken up to broken wards and early morning. She’d been sure of what she’d find; an empty bed, a yowling Reaper, and conspicuously missing clumps. And that was what she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>found...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she’d not been anticipating the taunt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tense and trembling, she’d put a hand out and picked up the brand new storybook, lying on Agatha’s abandoned bed. Reaper hissed at it, back arching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Tale of Callis and Vanessa. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The tale she’d fled here to escape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pages were blank, aside from the handwritten note, scrawled on the very back page. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Commendable effort, Wardwell. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Commendable, but not good enough. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps your so-called daughter will be more skilled. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>R.M.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis sank down to sit on the edge of Agatha’s bed, fingers curling clammy around the pages, dampening and denting the crisp parchment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaper started wailing from Agatha’s pillow, pacing back and forth in agitation, tail lashing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking, Callis wrung her hands, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was a threat, sure she was going to end up waiting for a daughter who’d never come home, dead in an </span>
  <em>
    <span>accident </span>
  </em>
  <span>that had been too freak to be a real accident...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then her eyes alighted on the signature.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>R.M.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rafal Mistral. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An idea had come, unbidden. A terrible idea. A wonderful idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A handwritten signature, the fucking fool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first rule of the Woods was that you never gave </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>of yours to a witch. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Callis had cursed him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had ripped yarrow and ash twigs from the forest outside and bound them together, yanking together spindly arms and legs, a crude head. She’d torn the written-on page out of the storybook and thrown the rest into the fire, which roared up. She’d ripped the signature out of the message and tied it around the poppet’s neck like a noose. She’d yanked her herb cabinet open and emptied it out, clawing through the plants, a wicked witch utterly scorned. She’d hurled the necessary ingredients into her cauldron. Reaper watched from the windowsill, teeth bared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had only ever cursed one person before. It was unpredictable magic, wild and hard to control. But the Wardwell family had a disturbing natural affinity for it. How else had they been able to climb so high?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it had worked on Vanessa. In a fit of rage, Callis, young and foolish, had put the infant Agatha to bed and cursed Vanessa-- plaguing her with ill health for the rest of her life. She’d not known that life was to be so short, but it had been satisfying-- and </span>
  <em>
    <span>effective--</span>
  </em>
  <span> all the same.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, surely, it would work on Rafal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It just required more from her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Last time, the expenditure of her magic for a year. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it worked, Callis didn’t expect to be alive to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>The End </span>
  </em>
  <span>written in Agatha’s storybook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be written. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gazed into the cauldron. The last thing needed… some her hair had sufficed, when she’d cursed Vanessa. This time, she could almost guarantee it wouldn’t. Vanessa was a village woman. Rafal was a sorcerer from one of the Four Great Families. Pendragon, Sader, Mistral…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Wardwell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was powerful, but so too was Callis. It was why he’d sought her in the first place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis knew what the spell required from her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mouth tense, she drew a knife from the rack and put her hand on the kitchen counter, laying it out flat. Reaper stood, ears pricking. Callis hesitated…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she’d caught sight of the rest of Rafal’s note, ripped and abandoned on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So-called daughter.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So-called.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a scream, Callis had brought the knife down and cleaved off the top of her right index finger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaper wailed and yowled, horrified, as Callis doubled over, heaving. Barely thinking, she’d snatched it up and hurled it into the cauldron, hands slippery with her own blood, stomach roiling. She held herself up on the counter, legs trembling, and managed to summon up the words for the incantation-- old words of power, ugly words. Not to be spoken in a house where one raised a child.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Callis’s child was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Screaming, with rage and with pain, she hurled the poppet into the cauldron and crumpled, unconscious, on the kitchen floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As expected, he noticed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In fact, he came into her dream, in his true form; old and wizened and disgusting, roaring at her, grabbing her by the hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“WHAT DID YOU DO? WARDWELL! </span>
  <em>
    <span>WHAT DID YOU DO?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew what she’d done. He knew he would die, and die </span>
  <em>
    <span>soon,</span>
  </em>
  <span> if he turned on Agatha. He knew it, and he was furious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he couldn’t do anything about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis had crowed in his face, cackling in triumph, and didn’t reply, even as he raged. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>So now, the sudden presence of magic… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis slid out of bed, eyes narrowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Approaching</span>
  </em>
  <span> magic, no less. Getting stronger, quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tense, she crammed her feet into her boots, swung on her overcoat, and emerged into the dark kitchen, Reaper slipping around her ankles. They stood together, waiting, tense. Callis absently ran her thumb over the stub of her fingerglow finger (healed by her, on the kitchen floor, with Reaper’s help) wondering whether she ought to go to the square…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It happened so suddenly that even she cowered; a deafening </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang </span>
  </em>
  <span>and an intense flare of gold light, rushing outwards in a howl of wind and smacking the shutters against the windows, buffeting the curtains with the aggression of it, knocking over trinkets and snapping plant stems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Screaming erupted from the village below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it was Rafal back…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, he could have her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis flung the door open and sprinted down the hill. Darting between the graves as only she and Agatha could, she hurdled a fallen headstone and vaulted the gate, brambles lashing at her bare legs. She stumbled down the hill, tripping on roots, and lurched onto the footpath, skidding on gravel. She ran past the river, past the mill, the lake, towards the main village. The shouting got louder, and villagers came streaming from their houses, all in nightclothes, bearing torches, pitchforks, axes… they assumed nefarious intent, the School Master back unfairly soon, more children taken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis outstripped them, made swift by her purpose. If Rafal was waiting for her, she would gut him. No, better-- she would kill him and drag him back up to Graves Hill as a trophy, tie him by his ankles and tow him the whole way, keep his body and destroy it...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stumbling on the cobblestones, she raced up the narrow street leading to the town square, where the shouting was loudest, ready for a fight--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she realised what they were shouting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“CURSEBREAKERS! CURSEBREAKERS!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis slowed, panting, coming to the back of the crowd. Cursebreakers. What did that...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me see my daughter! Sophie! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sophie!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis’s words died in her throat as she spotted Stefan on the other side of the square, barging through the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For where there was Sophie, there was always…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She elbowed her way through the assembled, shunting aside bakers and labourers and the schoolteachers, immersed in the chaos of the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why all the blood?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you get away?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you stand? Are you hurt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s crying, poor lamb--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis burst out into the open air. Heart in her mouth, she turned--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stefan’s hand shot up and grabbed the hem of her skirt. Callis snatched it out of his grip, whirling to where he was knelt on the floor, clutching…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clutching Sophie. Soaked, bloodied, pink-ballgown clad Sophie, white-faced and silent in her father’s arms.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>So she was back. So surely--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stefan grabbed her again, shaking her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Callis!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sophie’s hurt, can you go and get dressings from your house? You can treat her--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? But Ag--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Callis, please, come on--” Stefan tried to yank her over-- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis snatched her arm out of his grip and slapped him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You fucking imbecile!” she shouted. Several people laughed nervously. “It’s not just </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> daughter!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stefan, clutching his smarting cheek, opened his mouth to reply--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophie finally found her voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Father.” she said hoarsely. “It’s alright. I don’t need a doctor. Let Callis see Aggie.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stefan stared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But all this blood--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been fixed.” said Sophie faintly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fixed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Magical interference, then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was all Callis needed to hear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not sufficient for the villagers, though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” asked Honora, clutching her sons to her apron-- and unwittingly opened the gates to another flood of questions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, what happened?” someone repeated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you see my daughter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about my son?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anya and Garrick’s parents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you get hurt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was the School like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you get home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why </span>
  </em>
  <span>did you come home--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Covered by the chaos, Callis barged aside the remaining villagers around her and flung herself down next to Agatha. Agatha, her daughter who somehow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow, </span>
  </em>
  <span>had managed to escape that beastly school and get back to her alive, Agatha who had come back with Sophie, just as Callis had known she would insist upon, Agatha who was…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who was hunched on the ground alone, head down, shivering. She hardly seemed to have noticed what was going on. She looked hunted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis slid an arm across her back and Agatha jumped violently--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s me.” said Callis quietly, struggling to project calm. “It’s alright sweetheart, it’s me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha looked up at her, and her face crumpled immediately. Callis thought she might be remembering the last time she saw her, how she’d been prickly and inattentive and…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it didn’t matter now. It had never mattered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis gathered her to her chest, unsure who was shaking more, as Agatha started to sob--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A question caught her attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to the School Master?” demanded elderly Mr Deauville, tottering towards Sophie, who he clearly deemed to be more receptive. “Did he let you go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although she wasn’t sure if anyone else did, Callis noticed the way Sophie’s face became suddenly grim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” she said. “He’s dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dead.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophie looked over at Agatha.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We killed him.” she said. “Didn’t we, Aggie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha’s eyes shifted down, a clear sign of uncertainty... but Callis was too caught up in the announcement to question the method of death. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dead. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the silence, she looked down at her severed finger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>WHAT DID YOU DO?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then the villagers burst into cheers, and if Callis laughed-- cackled, even-- it wasn’t out of place for such a celebration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Agatha was still largely unresponsive, biting her nails and clutching the sleeve of her mother’s overcoat, and Callis curbed her mirth. This was doing no good, this hounding and hysterical shouting from the villagers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” she said, scraping to her knees as the villagers cheered and danced. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha looked as if she might object, craning her neck to find Sophie in amongst the crush of excited villagers--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sophie!” cried a younger girl from the crowd. “What was the School for Good like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both heard her response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She barely hesitated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Magical.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sophie said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Agatha looked bewildered, genuinely hurt--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she jerked like she’d been hit, and shot to her feet, swaying slightly and suddenly alert. The hunted look had disappeared, been snatched away and replaced with something more familiar. The pinched corners of her mouth that indicated a hastily swallowed misery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to go home.” she said, and Callis caught the break in her voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said calmly. “We’ll go now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stood, and they turned--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” demanded the lead Elder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Home.” said Callis shortly, pulling Agatha firmly against her flank and making for the path that led to Graves Hill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ms Wardwell, there are so many things we need to sort out--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can they not wait until tomorrow?” asked Callis, crushing a nearby weed under the heel of her boot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, they--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll rephrase.” said Callis coldly, eyeing the crushed plant, feeling her severed finger burn in her pocket. She looked him dead in the eye. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>They can wait until tomorrow.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Elder blinked once. Then twice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah-- yes.” he said. “Wait until tomorrow. Yes, yes, very good, very sensible…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis smiled grimly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” she said. “I thought so too.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Will you tell me what happened?” asked Callis later, ushering her through the front door. “Not now, necessarily, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She trailed off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha didn’t respond, scooping up a circling Reaper and kissing his wrinkly head. Callis waited a few moments, knowing full well she’d heard her, but she still didn’t reply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So she wanted to forget all of it, did she--?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We didn’t kill him.” Agatha said abruptly, letting Reaper jump down. She moved silently down the corridor, examining Callis’s plants, and Callis noticed for the first time that she was wearing a dress fit for a ball, too. The velvet train was heavy with water and mud, dragging a wet patch along the floorboards behind her. It was December. The Snow Ball. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That damned party never went right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then who did?” asked Callis quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our history teacher.” said Agatha. She crushed a mint leaf between her fingers, then pulled abruptly away, wiping her hand on her skirt. “Professor Sader. I don’t know… I don’t know quite how. But he did something. Magic. He died for us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sader. Callis closed her eyes briefly. He would have foreseen it, gone to his death willingly, but to know he was gone felt like a terribly bad omen…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But he’s definitely dead.” said Agatha. “The School Master, I mean. So no more kidnapped kids.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis swallowed her glee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” she said, simply. That, at least, was good news. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stood in the hallway for a minute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Agatha turned to her. Callis gazed at her, noticing some subtle changes; the shorter, better cut hair. Fuller face and limbs that suggested she’d actually eaten enough for once. What looked like a burn scar on her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you make your ginger tea?” Agatha asked softly. “Really strong?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis looked at her, feeling the press of something desperately painful in her chest. Why had she bothered asking? She knew exactly what had happened. Agatha had been flung into Good, utterly out of place and lost, even more so than the regular Readers. She had wanted to go home </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>badly, desperately badly, that she’d actually found a way. She’d dragged Sophie along with her. But the school changed you. Callis knew that. They’d managed to get home, and they wanted their lives to go back to normal… but how could it, now they knew better?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis went over to her and kissed the top of her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” she said, squeezing her as tightly as she dared. “I’ll make it. And I’ll run you a bath, you’re covered in mud.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t mention the dress until she’d spent twenty minutes scrubbing mud, blood and filthy water off of Agatha’s skin. It was practically ingrained. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She narrowed her eyes, noticing the long, barely healed scabs on her legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt Agatha tense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ran into some thorns.” she mumbled. She was holding her head at a funny angle. Callis frowned at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with your neck?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hurts. Don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis watched her narrowly, eyeing the random twitches in her shoulders. Neck pain, shoulder spasms...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whiplash.” she said. “You fall from somewhere high up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...yeah. Hit the moat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>moat?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d clearly pressed too far, because Agatha’s lips pursed and she clammed up, taking a gulp from her mug and hunching over. Callis backed off, thinking this was going to be difficult to tread around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Accident prone, aren’t you?” she asked mildly, knowing full goddamn well that the only clear fall from anywhere down to the moat was from the School Master’s tower, and somewhat impressed she hadn’t broken her neck. “Thorns, whiplash, you’ve got an impressive bruise here…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She prodded her temple. Agatha winced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fell into a wall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She met Callis’s incredulous gaze, and the first hint of a smile since she’d arrived back touched the corner of her mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Satisfied she’d redirected her slightly, Callis snorted and left to check on the kitchen fire, leaving Agatha to wash her hair and redress. When she returned, Agatha was sitting on the edge of the empty tub, which was streaked with mud, staring at the abandoned ballgown on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is pretty.” said Callis, picking it up wringing filthy water out of it. “Under all the mud, anyway. Shall I wash it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” muttered Agatha. Callis couldn’t help but notice she’d immediately changed back into one of her straight black dresses. “I’d sooner burn it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis raised her eyebrows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure? It’s lovely velvet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Sure.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“High quality,” Callis went on, searching for a reaction. “Almost Princess-like--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She touched a nerve.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What would </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> know about dresses?” snapped Agatha, suddenly. “I told you to burn it! I don’t like it anymore!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately, she coloured, ashamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. I just--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped, picking nervously at her lip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis sat down on the edge of the tub next to her and turned the tap on, starting to scrub the mud out of the skirt. Agatha didn’t look at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know which school you went to, Agatha.” Callis said quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I know you heard Sophie say--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard Sophie </span>
  <em>
    <span>lie.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>said Callis sharply. “She lied about the School Master, and she lied about going to Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha stared, stunned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? But you packed-- you said--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would have laughed in my face if I’d told you you would go to Good instead of Sophie, so what was the point? Better to keep up the facade.” said Callis briskly, aware she was skirting slightly too close to getting Agatha to ask some inconvenient questions, but not much caring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Magical. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Deceitful girl. First in all her classes, was she? And now everyone’s going to think exactly what she wants them to think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She snorted derisively. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha was silent for a long time. Then, finally;</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter.” she said flatly, standing and limping towards the door. “We’re back, now. It’s in the past. Sophie can say she went to Good. I don’t mind.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” asked Callis doubtfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha looked down at her scratched legs and mud-encrusted clumps. Reaper came to circle her feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who would believe me if I argued about it?” she asked tiredly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were silent for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make you a coat out of this.” said Callis, examining the gown. “If you want. There’s enough material. It would look nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To her utter surprise, Agatha agreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Ok.” she paused. “I think I’d like that.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She got more agitated, later; following Callis around and carrying a surprisingly docile Reaper everywhere. Obsessively snacking and making drinks and pacing. Callis tried her best to maintain a normal routine; going out to pick herbs and find interesting bugs, replacing snails in the shrubbery so they didn’t get stood on by graveyard visitors. She made Agatha help her cook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re going to ask you to tell them </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> that happened, tomorrow.” she warned her as they chopped chillies. “You need to decide how to avoid telling them most of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha looked confused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I shouldn’t tell them everything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Elders?” Callis snorted. “Absolutely not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha flicked a chilli seed against the window, frowning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to talk to Sophie. About… everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>About whether Sophie’s going to continue the lie, </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought Callis sourly</span>
  <em>
    <span>. And whether Agatha is going to go along with it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They hadn’t discussed anything else about the School since the dress. Callis doubted Agatha was going to talk about it much at all, unless she absolutely had to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reached over to pick up Agatha’s pile of chillies and Agatha snatched up her hand, suddenly horrified. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to your finger?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I cut it off from the top knuckle to put a death curse on Rafal, dear.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surgery accident.” Callis said ruefully. “Norton’s idiot son dropped a scalpel on my hand whilst I was operating on his sister and it got infected. Took it off myself. Got Honora to help me dress it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d thought this was a reasonable enough explanation. Worse things had happened in Gavaldon, like the mill accidents. But to her dismay, Agatha looked on the verge of tears again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright, sweetheart, really.” she said hastily. “Doesn’t really bother me. It didn’t hurt, much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha took a shaky breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sniffed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis knew she didn’t believe her. On any of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But they were supposed to be going back to normal, and that wasn’t normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She put her hand on the back of her head, and Agatha leaned into her side, and they carried on cooking together. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>After dinner, she went down to the bakery and spent far too much money on a variety of chocolate cakes for dessert. On the way back, she caught sight of the huge number of people clustered into Stefan’s tiny cottage, crammed in the living room, perching on sofas and tables and stools. Mostly the girls and young women of the village.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t need to wonder who they were paying such rapt attention to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like her damned mother. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scowl deepening, Callis decided to duck into the florists as well, just out of spite. They always had snapdragons left, simply because no one but she and Agatha liked them. She bought a slightly wilted bunch and stomped back up the hill, debating herself. It wasn’t fair to harbour such animosity towards Sophie, not like this-- she was only young-- but the way Sophie treated Agatha had always angered her. Callis had always known damn well she was just using Agatha as a Good Deed, and Agatha’s dependency on her had been wildly unhealthy, but hadn’t had the heart to tell Agatha. There had been moments where she’d thought maybe there was a genuine friendship between them, but they were few and far between, randomly punctuating a long stream of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sophie, Sophie, Sophie</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Agatha had been more than happy to listen to, no matter how much she outwardly grumbled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Sophie had the audacity to pretend </span>
  <em>
    <span>Agatha</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the Evil one. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She suspected Agatha had realised it, by now. The way she said Sophie’s name had changed; the reverence and admiration had disappeared. Something had happened between them, straining their relationship. Sophie was clearly happy enough to take Agatha’s story and apply it to herself…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Witch indeed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gritting her teeth, Callis opened the front door-- and heard the distinct sound of tearing paper from the kitchen. Confused, she came down the corridor and peered around the doorframe... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha was hunched in front of the fire, ripping their copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>King Arthur</span>
  </em>
  <span> to pieces and throwing the scattered bits onto the fire. Callis watched her, startled. It had been her favourite, when she was a child, and now she was destroying it--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was destroying it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A thought came to her, and she did some very fast mental maths. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...hmm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silently, she withdrew, retraced her steps, and very deliberately slammed the door much louder. The tearing abruptly stopped, replaced by sudden scuffling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got you flowers, as well as the cakes.” she said mildly, deliberately dawdling in the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, thank you-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ow, </span>
  </em>
  <span>shit--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind the fire.” said Callis, coming into the kitchen and presenting her with the bouquet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Agatha said weakly, standing and wiping her sooty hands on her skirt. “Thanks. These are nice. I’ll get a glass...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she wandered off, Callis eyed the scrap of paper on the edge of the fire that hadn’t caught, and said nothing. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Yes, Agatha was trying her best to be normal, but the odd behaviour persisted. Callis wasn’t in the least bit surprised. She hovered in the doorway of Callis’s room after coming to say goodnight to her, seeming to teeter on the edge of saying something--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis patted the space next to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna hear all the village drama, since you’ve been gone? Mrs Graham had another baby. I had to deliver it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha crept closer, clearly understanding what Callis </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>meant; that she could sleep here, if she wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was it healthy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Girl. Sweet baby. Everyone thinks it’s not her husband’s though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha stared at her, starting to look slightly more amused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whose, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The mill manager everyone thinks is hot. They were childhood friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, right?” snorted Callis. “Kid even looked a bit like him. What else… oh, the baker got accused of putting chalk in his bread, ‘cause he’s been gambling too much and can’t afford enough flour. Real roulette as to whether you’re gonna get chalk bread or actual bread.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knew there was a reason we always made our own.” muttered Agatha. Callis laughed-- then noticed her pinching her neck, again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, don’t do that. It’ll go away on its own, eventually. Want some painkillers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.” mumbled Agatha. “Can I have some valerian root?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis didn’t even blink. Treatment for insomnia. She’d often given it to first years after the Trial by Tale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.” she said, standing to go and rifle in her herb cabinet. “Think I have some left.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The trouble with valerian root was that it was pretty slow acting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Agatha got very loose-lipped when she was drowsy.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis only remembered this after she started muttering about Sophie, some half an hour after she’d thought Agatha was already asleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t wanna go to that meeting tomorrow.” she mumbled. “Gonna be unbearable. Gonna have to listen to Sophie talking about Good like she went. Elders are gonna be all over her. She’s gonna ham it up for </span>
  <em>
    <span>ages ‘</span>
  </em>
  <span>n make me do all this stuff with her like she didn’t try to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis startled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She</span>
  <em>
    <span> what?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she blurted, before she realised that it was unfair to try and egg her on, when she wouldn’t have normally told her this. She clamped her mouth shut, but it was too late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Realised she was Evil and lost it. Accused me of being a witch as a last ditch effort, I told her I wasn’t. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get your own life, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she told me. Then lost her shit when I did.” Agatha sneered lazily. “She won’t say sorry. She never says sorry. And I won’t make her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She buried her head in her arms, seemingly defeated. Callis smoothed her hair absently, mind racing. That sounded like </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than just the behaviour of a jealous teenager. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That sounded like Nemesis behaviour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heart sinking, Callis pulled Agatha against her side. This wasn’t going to last, this wobbly attempt at normalcy. She knew how fairy tales worked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it seemed to Callis that it was nigh impossible they weren’t in one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Agatha spoke again, so quietly that Callis nearly missed it;</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wonder if I should’ve chosen Tedros.” she mumbled. “Tedros knew I was Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t speak again, after that. Her breathing levelled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis sat in quiet thought for a while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she carefully slid out of bed and went into the kitchen. She stooped and retrieved the unburnt piece of paper from the side of the heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brushing soot off it, she realised she recognised it; the final page, the happy ending. She lowered her eyes to the writing, still visible;</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>--and they named the child </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Tedros, </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>‘gift of god’, for they loved him best of all the people in the world. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, Callis opened the rest of the book.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only page Agatha had actually ripped out was that one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grimly, she returned it to the shelf and tossed the scrap of paper onto the embers, watching it smoulder and eventually curl into flame. She knew what the rest of the burnt paper contained, now; the happy couple and their blonde baby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gave it six months before he came for her. Maybe less. Goddamned princes. This story wasn’t over yet, not by a long way. And the fact she wasn’t yet dead suggested to Callis that Rafal was yet to make a reappearance. The curse was a life for a life, and Callis was yet to trade in hers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, sooner or later, they could be sure he was gone permanently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps this </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tedros </span>
  </em>
  <span>might be able to help with that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh, she returned to her bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He better be good to you,” she told her sleeping daughter sternly. “Or I’ll gut him, use them as party streamers, and install myself as Queen of Camelot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agatha did not respond, finally asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callis snorted, leaning down to kiss her unbruised temple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How witchy of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a witch, and a goddamned good one at that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hopefully someone would tell Agatha so, once she was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Callis was stopped by a desperate stab of grief. She would most likely never see Agatha married, or meet her children. She probably wouldn’t even see her reach her eighteenth birthday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then again, if Callis hadn’t intervened in the first place, she wouldn’t have even reached one </span>
  <em>
    <span>day</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sharp tears pricked the corners of Callis’s eyes. Throat with suppressed tears, she settled herself back onto the mattress, cursing Vanessa, Rafal, Sophie, anyone who’d had the gall to pick on this girl, her daughter, her Agatha, her first and only love--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And was startled when Agatha, seemingly instinctively, rolled over to latch onto her arm. An old habit, from her youngest years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tear slid down Callis’s cheek, and dropped onto the pillow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she snapped her fingers and snuffed the candle out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It flared green before the light disappeared completely. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I CRIED. I'VE NEVER MADE MYSELF CRY BEFORE. (I teared up at ros vs 7 but this was proper mouth wobbling crying lmao). WHY DID SHE HAVE TO DIE??? WHY?? GOD. I'll never get over it. also yes I AM insinuating that Callis is responsible for Rafal's death. mans was super powerful but he still died TWICE there was clearly some shit going on (no I know there wasn't but their deaths are close together and I really liked this idea that Callis got her final revenge on him just by straight up killing him for trying to hurt agatha lmao no matter how indirectly.) yes this is deliberately linked to the best kept secret. maybe I should do a lance version of this-- ooh yeah I should, like when they find out from Merlin what he's been doing at school. yeah. ok gonna keep that in the back of my mind. anyway this was a bit sophie slandering lmao apologies but like, I will FOREVER be raging about the fact she stole agatha's dress for curses. ugh. also I don't really know anything about witchcraft except that poppets were used to curse people so???? I thought it worked idk lmao. rafal deserved it. get fucked rafal</p></blockquote></div></div>
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